


MIA

by Oswald_Nygmobblepot



Category: Gotham (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 11:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8531263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oswald_Nygmobblepot/pseuds/Oswald_Nygmobblepot
Summary: WWII AU, Oswald is 18 and drafted into war. Gertrud is left home to worry about her boy who may or may not come home.





	1. Chapter 1

_‘Walk the city lonely_

_Memories that haunt are passing by_

_A murderer walks your street tonight_

_Forgive me for my crimes, don't forget that I was so young_

_Fought so scared in the name of God and country’_

-MIA by A7X

 

\- - -

The drafts had come as quickly as the announcement of war, and a letter in the mail was as simple as it was to shatter their small family of two.  
  
Gertrud had tried making excuses, coming up with reasons that Oswald was unfit to go. Health reasons, he was too young, which he was in Gertrud’s mind, he was only 17, but he would be 18 in a few days, before he had to leave and unfortunately that could not stop them from taking her boy.

Gertrud had wept for months after he’d left, locked herself in her room, the only thing keeping her going was the letters she received daily. There were times when she wouldn’t receive one, and it filled her with anxiety until she received one the next day, or the day after. Still, it was a steady flow of letters from Oswald, telling her that things were hard, but he was alright.

He was alive.

He would make it she was sure of it. He would come home to her, and she would make him a nice big meal, and he would stay home with her, and lay in bed while she sang to him as he had when he was a small boy.

That was three years, four months, and twelve days ago that he had left. Gertrud had been counting. Marking the days off on her calendar. She’d seen him twice since, but only briefly before he was taken back over seas.

But something had changed … And Gertrud was starting to lose hope, because exactly one year, seven months and 2 days after Oswald had been drafted … His letters had stopped. She had checked the mail on Monday, and there was nothing. She tried to calm herself, knowing one day was not unusual, but Tuesday came, then Wednesday, then Thursday, then Friday … Friday she received a letter … But instead of reassurance, it filled her with dread. The letter was not from Oswald.

She pulled it open with shaking hands, sitting on the couch as she read it.

 

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Kapelput  
24 Carson Rd, Apartment 2  
Gotham City, NY  
10107

 

The Department of the Army desires that you be informed of the final determination of the investigation in the case of your son, Oswald C. Cobblepot.

Full consideration has been given to all available information pertaining to your son since he died while a prisoner of the Japanese Government. According to information obtaining from the Cabanatuan Prisoner of War Death Report, your son died on 19th of November, as a result of malaria, pellagra, and diphtheria at Cabanatuan Prisoner of War Camp, Luzon, Philippine Islands.

Subsequent to the reported death of your son, units of the American Graves Registration Service disinterred all remains from the Cabanatuan Prisoner of War Cemetery and removed them to the American Graves Registration Service Mausoleum, Manila, Philippine Islands. In an effort to establish and/or verify identifications, these remains were subjected to exhaustive investigations, including processing by anthropologists and medical, dental and laboratory technicians in our Central Identification Laboratory at Manila. Our investigations have been completed and it is with regret that I must inform you that it had been impossible to identify any of the recovered remains as those of your son.

After a detailed study of the negative results of the investigations and the pertinent facts regarding the case, the Department of the Army has been forced to conclude that the remains of your son are not recoverable. I wish to assure you that, should any additional evidence come to our attention indicating that his remains are in our possession, you will be informed immediately.

Realising the extent of your grief and anxiety, it is not easy to express condolence to you who gave your loved one under circumstances so difficult that there is no grave at which to pay homage. May the knowledge of your son's honorable service to his country be a source of sustaining comfort to you.  


Sincerely yours,

 

C.J. Howfield

Captain, QMC

Memorial Division

 

Gertrud refused to be believe it. If her son’s remains were never recovered, then he was not dead. He wasn’t … But it had been so long and even that optimism was failing … One year and six months ago she had contacted Elijah. Had informed him that she had kept from him his son in fear that he would have been taken away from her. He had been supportive. He had wept for the son he had never met.

They held a funeral shortly after, and Gertrud had given into the fact that she would never see her boy again. Given in, but not accepted. She would never accept it. Never accept that her son had been taken from her early, and so young yet.

No, she would never accept it.


	2. Chapter 2

“Miss. Kapelput, please …” Jim said. He’d returned from war almost seven months ago, having left at the same time as Oswald had. They’d been on the same squad, had served together, and Jim had been there when Oswald had gone missing. “Please, come to dinner with us.” He said, Lee lingering in the doorway.

“Nein, No … I will not.” Gertrud said. Jim looked at Lee as Elijah approached Gertrud from their small kitchen.

“I think it would be a good idea.” He said, sitting down next to her on the couch. “Gertrud, dear, you can’t stay in here forever … I think we should go out, have dinner, and then we’ll come right back home alright?” He asked.  
  
Gertrud wanted to stay home. She didn’t like going out. She didn’t like the thought of doing things without her boy. She’d never have supper with him ever again, and while she ate here at home, she didn’t like the idea of going out, doing something special without him.

“Gertrud. I’m sure Oswald would want to you go out with us, just for one night. You’ve lost so much weight, Gertrud dear … He would be worried.” He said, his hand on her upper arm. She struggled for a moment, and Jim looked at Lee, wondering if she would actually come. She had to, they had to take her to dinner.

After a moment's silence she nodded. “Alright.” She said nodding, her eyes watering as she looked up at Elijah. “But just tonight.” She said. “Let me go get changed, and we go.” She said and Elijah smiled.

The restaurant wasn’t busy but it wasn’t what one would consider dead either. Jim and Lee sat at the table that was slightly bigger than a table for four, it seated six. Gertrud didn’t think anything of it as she sat down. She added little the conversation, and hadn’t noticed that people from surrounding tables kept glancing in their direction.

“Gertrud dear, would you like to order some champagne?” Elijah asked.

“I don’t like champagne.” Gertrud said, playing with her fork. She never had.

“I do.” For a moment Gertrud had thought Elijah had said it, the voice so similar, but no, the voice came from behind her. She looked up at her heart stopped, her mouth open in shock before she seemed to spring to life.  
  
“OSWALD!” She practically screamed jumping from her seat and hugging him. “You are alive!” She said, clinging to him, tears streaming down her face and she was dimly aware of the people clapping around them. All of them knew, they’d all been warned of the upcoming commotion that would likely come from the table. People had watched as he’d come through the restaurant in his uniform, clean and pressed, and had waited for Gertrud’s reaction.  
  
She pulled away from him a moment, looking over him as if she’d seen a ghost. “Is it really you?” She asked, her hands on his shoulders, going down over his arms, feeling him as if he would turn into some apparition, a hallucination, her grief turned real by her need to see him again. But no, he was here. He was different … But it was him. He was much thinner, his hair shaved to within an inch, a scar on his face but … It was definitely him.

“It is me, mother.” He said, his own tears running down his cheeks. It had been two weeks since he’d been found, three days since he was released from the hospital in the Philippines, and less than five hours since he’d arrived back in America. He had contacted Jim first who sounded as shocked as his mother to hear from him. Jim had picked him up from the airport and they had decided to surprise his mother at dinner.

“Oh my boy … My precious boy!” She said cupping his face in her hands, tears still running down her face, but for the first time in a long time, they were tears of joy.


End file.
